1. CONCEPTUAL FORNICATION

Simply we caught fire
Inflamed by our desires
We let out our anger
And created this beautiful disorder
‘Cause we are dead in the water
Abandoned in your disaster

The important thing is not to the answer, but the question
That’s the main thing in this world invaded by contradiction
It doesn’t matter the problem, there are never only one solution
In this abracadabra-incredible conceptual fornication

The mission of this revelation is to be illusion of the association of relations between consumption and personification, dependant principally concentrations of population…
Masses manipulation!


2. YAROSLAV INTO THE FAR EAST

Here the story begins
Here, no bisons
No yak into steppes

Here, there that factories
And coal mines
In the Ukrainian “Far East”

The story begins in the East
The mug into this industrial mist
Yarolsav into the “Far East”

Луганский мой город
Я оставляю вас озлобленные сердца
Для зеленых лугов

Сесть в этот локомотив
Построен моими товарищами
Чтобы бежать это тусклое « Фар Ист »


3. MOTHERFYCKING LES PAROLES

Plutôt que de pisser dans un violon
Je préfère chanter de belles conneries
Je prends ma gratte et je fais une chanson
Où personne n’écoute ce que je dis
Car motherfucking les paroles…
Et motherfucking ces putains d’paroles

Ma parole cette chanson ne mène à rien
Ma parole cette chanson ne sert à rien
Ma parole cette chanson n’apporte rien
Mais une chose est sûre, putain, qu’est-ce que ça rime bien!

J’ai décidé d’écrire une chanson
Que les enfants n’écouteront pas
Quatre accords pourris et plein de jurons
Juste pour faire chier ce monde qui est là
Et je vais même prendre le temps d’assassiner
Une ou deux, trois langues vivantes
Et j’ai oublié les paroles…
Car motherfucking ces putains d’paroles

The mass of body fluids meeting of plate tectonics
Which produces a creeping of astrononions on subaquatic algae
This song is a fucking big stinky shit
And I’m only a vile bastard, coupled with a stupid cretin
Whose sole purpose in life is to piss off the whole world
While raising a huge Indian finger to the idiots who populate it

Einmal, in dem Dreikanters Lande
Saß auf dem Gipfel einer Klippe
Ich fühlte des Wind tragen mich
Ich schreie über den Ozeanen
Aber mein Heulen in Vergessenheit geraten


4. IT SMELLS THE BITUMEN

It smells the bitumen
On the road of holyday
Drive fast on the sunny highway
And make the most of everyday
It smells good the bitumen… oh yeah, so good!

Since we are all already lost
In this world so tough and slow
Since we are all already so alone
In this life so boring and dull
Why don’t do the opposite
of what we should do?
Fuck it and start to amuse
‘Cause it’s the only thing that remains!

In life, we move faster on the wrong way
Than following the herd stupidly
While some advocates work and money
I advocate leisure and entertainment
Go my friends, go far away!
Leave behind us this world void of interest
Go my friends, go far away!
To this free territory where anything goes

Hace calor en el coche
Cinco, bajo el sol del verano
¡En ruta! Hacia la playa
A la sombra de las palmeras
Entre el mar azul y el cielo cian
Aquí es donde nuestras vidas comienzan


5. GOLDEN PARADIZE

(I) Wanna travel around the world… see many landscapes
(I) Gonna go through across borders… walk I escape
(I) Gotta run off this cage made of gold… break this bad rules
I’d go beyond lands and waters… sail and listen to gulls

I was born in a grey world
Where they were constantly drowning me in futile illusions
I was born in a bland world
Where the only flavor that one proposing me is the power
I was born in a boring world
Where the only occupation is to be better than its neighbors
I was born in a business world
Where I have no longer feeling to have a real place to be
But one day, Yaroslav said me
“Take your bag, don’t look back and forget this place”
But one day, Yaroslav said me
“Look at what surrounds you and you will understand what you’re going here”

I open my eyes and I realize
That I don’t want this golden paradise
Because it disown lessons of wise
And it built on several lies
I’m going, to travel across the world
To exchange hard times and warm words
‘Cause I prefer the paradise of soul, of mind
That of poor people who are rich inside
[Rich of their life, rich of their fight
Rich of their step, rich of their past
Rich of their thought, rich of some link
That they are woven with foreign exchanging]

I’m stunned by the willpower of some people
To be the strongest, the most powerful
I’m appalled by the suicidal desire
Of weak who want to be like them
I’m weary of the abundance of madness
In twenty-first century Man
I’m saddened by the lack of mankind
That characterizes so much our world, our wrong paradise
But one day, Yaroslav said me
“Take your bag, don’t look back and forget these men”
But one day, Yaroslav said me
“As long as they won’t have really lived, humans have no wealth”


6. TO BE CONTINUED... (THIS SONG IS DADA!)

I feel like tell you this story
It isn’t real because it sprang from night
And from my peaceful sleep

In a bar with stone wall
There was snooker with two black balls
The eight and the two… Why? I don’t know, don’t ask me!
There were also two white balls
A small and a large… Why? I don’t know, don’t ask me!
Anaïs plays with me
And I’m useless at snooker with two blacks and white jack

I meet a young blond girl, more beautiful than the sun
Great and lovely, her name was Yulia
She had a Slavic accent… Why? I don’t know, don’t ask me!
“Both of them go on a trip, anywhere, where our steps will lead us”
But why she loves me? I don’t know, don’t ask me!
Me and Yulia go far away, and my family will come

Go through villages of this rural France
Between wheat fields and forgotten bars
The night we go, because in this place, it is more hostile than the days
Away behind us, drunkards fight themselves… Why? I don’t know, don’t ask me!
This story does it make sense? And has it an end? … I don’t know, don’t ask me!
But this dream, but this dream … (is) … to be continued!!!

Africa is so majestic that we are gone there!
Yet this village looks like Europe
And after have crossed the street “for Alassane Ouattara”
I realize that a French with a young Russian girl met in a bar,
who go for a walk in a Normand village in the middle of African savannah!
It’s very strange… Why? I don’t know, don’t ask me!


7. LISTEN TO THE SILENCE

The most selfish goal
That I pursue in life
Is to be free
More than what I am
I address this prayer
To all brothers
Who want to become free
Free to explore others spheres of consciousness

I wish gods granted us
This spiritual fullness
And that our mind escapes
Where we can’t go
I wish emptiness haunted us
And that our consciousness rises
Ô Great Silence!
Be thy name heard!

This song is a work of art
Because, deep in our hearts
The speech is an offence
Just listen to the silence!
Try to perceive this sound
This noise which’s all around

I wish merciful Norns of time
Gave us the power
To contort dimensions
I wish the only important thing
Was auscultation of the power
Of mental strength
Ô Great Silence!
Be thy name heard!

Think about this music which isn’t a real one!
Feel what you can’t comprehend!
Cross this imaginary continent who lives into the middle of your mind!
Know that there are no limits, no borders that exist!


8. TOMATO JUICE (PUNKLEOSTEUS VERSION)

На русская подлодка
Есть капитан Павлова
Который плывёт между
Баренцевом морем
И мурманскей областом
« Когда океан тёмн
История бессмысленн
Как на моей стране
Как на моём виде »

В дне эта советская консервная банка
Я думаю нашей историе
« Да свидания и слава родине »
Это то, что я их сказал
Мы посылали спутник называется „Мир“
Но что мы делали?
Мы назвали газета „Правда“
Но что мы говорили?
Человек который хотел стать поэт
Видел своя самое красивое создание
На всех монетах
Нашей очень большой нации

Но в пятьдесяте году
Что мы будем делать тем временем?
Победители пишут история
История не нуждается в героях
Герои создают легенды
И легенды ложные историе
Но в пятьдесяте году
Что мы будем говорить тем временем?
О наших нелепых поступках
Исторня может изменять
Но правда вернулась
Всегда от прошлого


9. PUNKLEOSTEUS (ABYSSAL VERSION)

(Instrumental)


10. L'EFFET PITT

Он приходит, это эффект Питт
Крутит пространство и замедляет время
Он приходит, это эффект Питт
Вдруг, он стучит, расслабляет меня
И эффект Питт уходящий
Он оставляет меня в разных горизонтах
Другой День, Другой пейзаж
Джойнт курение, и многие люди

Он приходит, это эффект Питт
Он опьяняет, мой ум мирно
Он приходит, это эффект Питт
Мягко, он препятствует, освобождает меня
...

Он приходит, это эффект Питт
Ещё раз, (это) собираюс делать « Мит»
Он приходит, это эффект Питт
Сейчас, я знаю, я его знаю
...


11. YAROSLAV PART EN VOYAGE

Yarolsav, il part à Oulan-Bator
Et le pire c’est qu’il n’a pas totalement tort
Le seul problème c’est qu’il s’est carrément planté
Et qu’il est parti en direction d’Angers

Yarolsav, il a dit « merde » à tout le monde
Il a pris son sac et est parti faire le tour du monde

Il est allé dans un pub en Irlande
Il s’est perdu dans les mines du Witwatersrand
Il a construit un igloo au milieu du Groenland
Et, à dos de yak, a traversé la moitié des Andes
Il est arrivé en Jamaïque
Mais son vol était pour Reykjavik
Alors pourquoi pas se balader complètement stone
Dans le quartier le plus chaud de Kingston

Il est parti à la recherche d’Irina
Mais elle vit au milieu d’l’Himalaya
Entre les lapins alpinistes
Et les terroristes maoïstes
Il a bu en café turc en Arménie
Il y vu des gratte-ciels au sommet des îles Fidji
Il a même vu des pays où les droit de l’Homme
Sont devenues lois et doctrines
Il a vu l’colosse de Rhodes dans l’Colisée de Rome
Et l’molosse de Poutine sur l’mausolée de Lénine


12. PUNKLEOSTEUS (PELAGIC VERSION)

Sitting on my couch, I travel…
Running in the poppy fields
Pursued by the soldiers of
The north-Korean narco-dictator
I cross the beach
And dive into the sea

I swim in the deep ocean
I jump into the abyss
And penetrate in a mystical world
The House of Punkleosteus

Sitting on my couch, I travel…
Walking on the floor of abyssal plains
I meet the illustrious giant
Ancestral fish to the armored crest
Wandering since the dawn of time
He teaches me to be high freely

Sitting on my couch, I talk with the Punkleosteus
Floating into the subconscious of my imaginary ocean